Burning on the Inside
by C0nt0rt3dm1nd
Summary: "I blew up a street corner, I'm stuck in this hell hole, and my partner is at Blackgate where I'm sure she's having a wonderful time," I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Why aren't you dead?" -OC, Selina Kyle, Harvey Dent, Jonathan Crane, Batman-
1. Now or Never

**Burning on the Inside**

_**Now or Never**_

"—_police have been led to believe that last night's thrift store theft is connected with the recent robberies. The same marks left on the walls match identically with those of the victims in—"_

"Turn that off, will you?"

While reaching to switch the radio station, I paused at the host's next words. _"Luckily, the police say they are coming to a conclusion of who is behind this—more than likely we may thank the Batman for their recent discoveries."_

"Luckily? _Luckily?_ Turn it off, damn it," Lina covered her face with a hand and shook her head. "That's ridiculous. I swear, the introduction of that bat brought more crime."

I let her rant as the rain began to let up; a cold shiver ran over me as I tried yet again to turn on the heating. The reaching hand froze over the dial as I heard screeching tires and a loud crash behind me. Wincing, my fingers gripped the wheel and I pulled to the left to get away from the accident. Of course, in Gotham one could never be sure if it truly was an _accident._

The drops on the glass became less frequent as I pulled around to the back of the museum. Behind the old building, only a few cars were parked; yet, in this city it always feels like someone is watching you. Seeing that my dark jeans had come untucked from my boots, I breathed out a sigh, tucked them in, and then opened the door. Quickly opening the trunk, I grabbed my umbrella and purse.

She smiled as she came under the umbrella, "You know, it's safer to keep your bags in the floorboard of the passenger side?"

"Haven't heard that one before," I coughed and rolled my eyes. "But I'm sure not going to keep them there with a klepto like you in the front seat."

Her smiling eyes turned to a glare as she glanced around, "Shut up, people here don't take that as a joke."

I did as asked, spun on my heel and began walking to the entrance; of course, I didn't get far before she caught up. Those daily runs obviously pay off, as I understand—she began walking at my pace, though slightly in front. Always, she must be slightly in front.

_The cries of children overwhelmed the crackling of the flames; however, the licking and crawling of the fire fascinated me. I reached out to touch it, and let it sink in to my skin. Sucking in a deep breath as the creature surely left scars upon my pale skin. _

"_What are you doing?" _

_I broke contact with my first friend to look up at my second. A girl with ash covered hair reached toward me; I fell back, and felt the warmth of the flames against my shirt. _

"_Hey!" She grabbed my shoulders and pulled me toward her. "Come on, we're leaving this hell." _

_I hadn't noticed the bags she carried until she shoved one into my arms. Haziness followed us as we ran through the orphanage and out into the dirty street. I slid in the socks they had provided me and let slip a few of the items from the bag—bills: tens, fives, ones, flew from my arms. _

"_Just keep running! You'll make some bum's day," the girl breathed to me. _

_And, we ran. _

"Hey," I felt a tap on my shoulder. "One o'clock, the blue one."

My eyes flicked to the blue gem on display in the 'Month-long Egyptian jewel' section of the museum. Here only 30-days, they would be packing up tomorrow; of course, it seems there would be one missing. Looking across the way to a ruby ankh, it seems there may be a few things missing.

_The cold hurt more than the cobblestones under my feet; we had stopped running and now hid in an alleyway. _

"_What's your name?"_

_I looked up and, breathing heavily, answered, "Adena."_

"_Nice to meet you," She smiled largely and looked accomplished. "I—"_

"_Now what do we have here?" _

_We both jumped up to stare at a large woman with thick, dark hair. She held a pan in one hand and leaned the other against the moist brick wall. _

"_Well, don't just sit there," She motioned toward the open door. "Come in, come in."_

"Toss me the duct tape, will you?" She came out in a skintight body suit that made me wince.

"What happened to the pants combination?" I asked, gesturing to my own black pants and boots. She shrugged and caught the tape I threw at her.

"Felt like I should mix it up a little."

"_Miss—"_

"_I told you, girl, call me Mama," The elderly woman tossed a box into the back of the truck. "Now, I have to go, but I'll be back in the morning. Tell the others to carry on."_

_She pats my coquelicot hair before pulling herself into the driver's seat and hauling out. I jumped over a pile of bricks and walked swiftly into the house. _

"_Lina! Sylvia!" I whispered harshly into the dark air. It is finally time. _

"_Is she gone?" Lina swung down from the second floor as Sylvia took the stairs. "The others are heading out the back…I told them we'd catch up."_

_Sylvia smiled a dark smile, "We're not going to catch up."_

"_Okay," I nodded along with the blonde. "Do you have everything?"_

_She handed me a sack filled with the items I'd acquired over the years—well, the items I'd hidden before Mama Fortuna could confiscate them. _

_Yet again I found myself running from a home. _

"It's bad enough we can't drive there…but must we walk at this slow a pace? I cannot wait to see the pretties come out of their jails," the currently trench coat wearing woman barely made a noise in the night.

I pulled my own coat closer and watched my breath float out in front of me. The icy nights in Gotham will kill me one day, I know it; yet, it is my home of homes: I will never leave. "Your precious gems will be in your hands momentarily."

She huffed and turned to the alleyway beside the museum. Shedding the coats, I took hers and folded them behind a dumpster—after tonight it wouldn't matter who stole them, we'd have all that we need. I stood up and tightened the belt around my waist, careful to not set off anything. I turned to look at my partner and let out a snort.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?"

She pulled the whip out of her bag and wrapped it around her arm. In the glow of the street lamp outside the alley, the end stuck out and created the allusion of a tail…paired with the cat ears on her head, she looked utterly feline.

"—a cat burglar, clearly," She smiled that spacious smile. "I thought you'd appreciate it, your humor and all."

I rolled my eyes, "It's lovely, now come on, and it's almost midnight."

"_Go to hell!" _

"_What? What have I ever done to you?"_

"_Exactly! Not once did you ask 'Oh, Sylvie, what happened? Are you all right? Did he hurt you?' WELL, YES, damnit, he hurt me," The blonde fumed. "I'm fifteen…I'm only fifteen…I'm not alright."_

"_Sylvia, I'm sorr—"_

"_Don't start with me, Adela," She backed away from Lina and I. "You're just weird. I just—I got to go."_

_As she ran away I turned to Lina; she looked up at me with a frown. "We need to find somewhere to stay, to get jobs, or something. She's right, we're going to get hurt doing this, or worse."_

"Wait for a second," I whispered and turned to the ruby case. I pointed my laser at it and fired an opening for my hand. Pulling a ruby bracelet with me, I nodded to her and we crept to our rope.

Lina stopped at the foot of it and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "Age before beauty."

I made a noise of annoyance and began hoisting myself up the rope with the bag. I felt her begin to follow my lead and we made our way through the skylight and into the night.

"And then," She laughed, breaking the walls of the whisper. "They went to rob the bank!"

I wrapped my hands around the steaming coffee, smiling as Lina retold the tale of the Joker's recent breakout of Arkham. The dirty café in downtown Gotham was practically empty, luckily for us—talking about recent thefts was no fun in our shared apartment. The street corner, still damp from the previous night's rain held few people waiting to cross.

"It seems," I began, my voice rough in the morning air. "As though his insanity is taking over his judgment."

She snorted daintily, "You don't say? At least his breakout robbery was enough to keep the bat busy, because in other news the museum was robbed of six high priced items."

She pulled out the day's Gazette from her bag, "_Sadly, the museum will not be the home to the Greek and Roman statue collection that was scheduled for next week, as recent break ins have lowered it's status as a safe place—_right, because every jewel thief wants their own _statue_."

I smiled as she rolled her eyes and tossed her pitch-black hair over her shoulder. "But, on that note I believe we should go out again tonight; have some fun, you know?"

"Fun?"

"Yes," she looked at a place above my head before continuing. "We rarely get a chance, and as it is a lovely Thursday in Gotham, I believe it to be the perfect night for some fun."

"Now, Lina," I scrunched my eyebrows together. "What exactly is it you consider 'fun' again?"

She shrugged, "I figure we could stop by that store on Ment, maybe pick something up, then head to a club or something."

I sighed; more cold sounds _lovely. _Though this could be an opportunity to try out some new things—Lina never did understand my desire toward the flames. They could end the coldness of Gotham, they could put a stop to all the icy ways and cold glares.

"Sounds like…fun," I took another sip of the now cold drink and made a face.

"_Twenty-one years old and already a professional thief," the man chuckled deeply and pulled the toothpick from his mouth. "But, what's this? You want to lay low for a bit and work for me?"_

_Lina rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, "Not work for _you, _be employed by you. I just want to get some information out of some of your clients—your business won't be hurt, they won't even know what's happening." _

"_And her?" The man, Stan, motioned to me with the toothpick. "What's she good for?"_

"_We hear you know a guy—goes by Janitor or something," Lina let out a short laugh. "She wants a word or two with him."_

_Stan stood up straighter; under the glow of the street lights the dirt on his face turned into a beard of sorts. A dripping noise was heard in the alleyway behind us and I grew distracted while waiting for an answer. _

"—_and with—hey, is she even listening?" I snapped my head back to face him. "Listen good, in this world you need to learn how to pay attention, learn to focus on everything and understand everything. You'll go no where, and Joshue will not speak with you." _

"_Joshue the Janitor? Oh please," Lina smirked as Stan faced her. _

"_Don't you start now," He pulled a napkin out of his back pocket. "Either of you got a pen?"_

_As I pulled one out from my bag he mumbled, "At least she's prepared." He took the pen and jotted something down before handing it and the napkin back to me. "Room 113, knock three times then ring the doorbell."_

I grunted in pain as I hit the floor, "Watch it sparky."

I glared up at Lina as she gently slid down the rope in her black cat suit. The ears were back and so was the whip—however, when she helped me stand up I noticed the whip wasn't the same as last night's. This one was much older.

She jumped through the room as I disabled the alarm. _Oh, shit_.

"Hey…Lina… we should go," I whispered before turning around.

"No, you shouldn't."

His hand grabbed my mouth, preventing my scream from being released. Little did he know that it wouldn't have made any noise anyway; yet, when he turned me to face him and I looked into the black cowl, I understood why most scream when they see him. The Batman.

"Hey, I got the—"

The Bat turned around so we both faced Lina, who dropped her bag of jewels and began unwrapping the whip from her arm. I felt him release my neck and drop me to the ground. I let out a cough as my hair fell over my face, trying to pull myself up, I watched as he lunged for Lina.

She elegantly jumped out of his way and pulled her whip back to snap; he dodged her attack and jumped toward her with a kick. Her shoulder caught the worst of the blow and she groaned in pain; yet, the Batman didn't stop. He stood with his hands in front of him as she flew at him in a flurry of kicks, whip soaring. As he dove to the side, I pulled myself up to lean against the wall. My jacket fell open slightly and my head lolled to the side—I reached into the side of my jacket and pulled out a container.

As the Batman hit Lina in the head, she fell to the ground. I felt blood drip down my own cheek and caught her eyes—which widened when she saw what I carried.

"Adena—don't."

This must have confused Batman as he stopped wrapping her own whip around her and turned to me. I grinned and lit the fuse, letting the cylinder drop to the floor. It clattered toward the display case to my right.

The heat came soon after.

"_So, how was your week with Janitor?" She smirked at the name. _

_I shrugged, "He was in his late seventies. Actually, quite the sweet old man—except for the odd moments of insanity."_

"_Did he teach you what you wanted to know?" _

"_Yes." _

"_Oh," She reached behind her and pulled out a rope. "One of the clients gave me this, cool right?"_

_It wasn't a rope, it was a whip: a cat-o-nine tails whip._

The room was brown: brown seats, brown walls, and brown gavel. The judge was crinkly and blurry; but they tell me that's from the explosion. It will go away soon.

Lina sits next to me as we await our fates, the handcuffs digging into my wrists and ankles…I yawned and looked at the people around the room. I knew the bomb would be huge, but who could have known that it would have taken down an entire street corner and apartments next door. Oops.

"Ms. Selina Kyle—seven years at Blackgate for six counts of felony theft."

She held her head at the same level, but I noticed a sigh escape the corner of her mouth. I glanced up at the judge and he looked over his glasses at my face.

"Ms. Adena Nytero," I blinked. It has been a long time since I heard my full name. "It has come to the court's attention that you hold questionable mental stability; as it is, I believe prison may not be the best option for you."

I let out a short breath and glanced to Lina, unmoving and opinion-less for once.

"Your sentence—Arkham, until deemed safe to live amongst the general public."

* * *

**_A/N: Alright, trying something new with this-just for kicks, but still. I would love to hear what you all think of this, it's a dark break from my other fics (and helps relieve of the dreaded block). _**

**_So, leave a review, love it, hate it, etc._**


	2. Break

**Burning on the Inside**

_**Break**_

I held my head down as two men, not stronger than me, dragged me out of a police cruiser. The jacket they had placed me in pulled at my arms and the blood stopped reaching my fingers. There is no point to fighting it—what would I gain from that? A strained neck, twisted wrists, maybe; yet, the desire was there. The desire to fight is always there when one is trapped. The dirty ground seemed to come closer and one pulled my hair, forcing me to face upward.

"Listen here," He breathed into my face and I held back a cringe. "Don't try to pull the _I'm a pretty girl _act—the guards here aren't going to help you, though the doctors may try." He stretched my neck back and I winced.

"Stop playing with her," The other one scoffed and tugged me forward, towards a set of doors. The first let go of my hair and reached forward to swipe a card in the door; my head rolled on my shoulders and I let out a soft groan. The doors slid open and we passed into a small room with another set of doors.

"_Patient 665, to Block C, cell 23,"_ A woman's voice spoke from above. The doors slowly opened and I dropped my head down as they dragged me forward.

The hallway was wide—and completely empty, except for air—but the rooms that lined the sides were small. And dark. I heard coughing, strange noises, and a high-pitched laughter in the distance. The women around me, locked behind glass and cement looked far from content.

"Don't worry," The guard let out a short laugh. "You're not with these."

I kept my head down, but mentally raised an eyebrow. The end of the hallway came closer and we stopped as the guard pulled out his card. He turned to me, "They're having some issues with patients using the front entrance, and so we took you for a backstage look at some Block B patients."

The doors opened and we stepped into another room. I flinched as a green beam came down from the ceiling, surrounded us, and went into the floor. "Arkham sure has changed since that anonymous donation—it takes a lot to get out not a days."

"Much less to get in," The guards laughed over their shared jokes as the doors opened to reveal Block C.

* * *

_I walked quickly down the increasingly light road; the sun was just coming up, and I sped up to rid myself of the darkness behind me. I turned and walked up the stairs in front of a shady looking building. The metal gate before the door opened easily when I pulled, as did the door—I was met with another staircase which I quickly climbed. _

"_109, 111," I stopped in front of 113 and took a breath. I raised my hand to knock and noticed a box on the ground_. Thomas Xenon…Interesting. _ I knocked three times and reached over the tall box to press the doorbell. The door slowly opened and I looked inside to see a couch and a bookcase. _

"_Bring the box."_

_I turned my head at the noise, but there was no one around. I grabbed the box, being careful, and walked into the room. I heard the door close behind me and watched as the bookcase moved to the right._

* * *

I heard stories of the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane from time spent in bad areas—though all of Gotham is a _bad area_, the ones Lina and I hung around often seemed worse than most. The most note-worthy tale as I recall was one of despair and the rotting away of one's brain as it is picked by doctors who so deem themselves worthy.

Honestly, it didn't look too bad.

The renovations done from a large donation proved necessary after a mass break out a few years ago; the entire island's population was forced to move—the Narrows, now an empty area of more security and guards. The Asylum itself sat higher among the abandoned buildings that were slowly being torn down, its own walls gaining a repair of their own. As the Asylum holds the majority of Gotham's maximum-security prisoners, the GPD _finally_ felt the need for a change in its scenery.

Block C, with its 30 cells, was for the prisoners in need of constant watch; apparently there are few, seeing as there are only twenty cells occupied. I looked through my hair as the men came to stand against the glass of their cells.

"Hey!" Guards started walking toward us from the other end of the hallway. One pointed a gun at a prisoner. "Get back! Back, now!"

The voice scratched on the chalkboards, "It's, _bulletproof, _ah, isn't it?"

The guards dug their hands into my shoulders and pushed me forward, past the creeps, rapists, and killers. I moved slower, they started dragging me to cell 23; something slid open, I paid it no mind as they threw me into the cement box. It closed me in and the guards went back to threatening the other criminals—_patients_—with their words.

* * *

"_He told me you would be coming," The older man scoffed, "As if I wouldn't have figured out where you came from on my own—but, my answer is yes."_

_As I hadn't asked a question, I tilted my head to the side and blinked. He gave a slight smirk, the wrinkles on his face coming together; I could tell his body had previously been extremely fit, but years of sitting in the safety of this hidden apartment show in the unused muscle and stomach full of vodka. _

"_I understand that I will not live much longer," He looked around the dirty room, filled with crates and steaming bottles. "It has come to my attention that if I were to train someone in the art that I have created, my life would continue even after my body has passed."_

_He looked me in the eye and continued, "You have a patience and desire to learn; I can see the flame in your eyes—it is identical to the one in my own. Though mine has faded some in years of this…hiding, this fear…I trust yours to continue the work I have started."_

_He broke out in a large smirk and stuck out his hand, "Are you ready to begin?"_

* * *

My body dropped onto the mattress and a cloud of dust went into the air; clearly the money provided wasn't enough to cover updating room conditions—only security.

I grabbed the pillow and stuffed it into my face—it smelled like disinfectant and a wave of nausea came over me. The room felt warm, the only good point: the cold of the hallways seemed miles away, which brought a smile upon my face. I could hear the voices of people through the air vents in the glass; the mumbles and senseless laughter irked me.

Tomorrow I will be forced into a therapy session with an assigned doctor; it is unfortunate luck for them—I will not speak.

* * *

"Ms. Nytero, how are you this morning?"

Her blonde hair was tied in a knot at the top of her head and glasses were perched upon her nose. At first glance, she appeared sympathetic; however, as I didn't respond she took on an uncaring visage.

"I notice you look well rested, is your bed alright?"

Her questions were neither interesting nor out of the ordinary—pretty much the same questions that Lina used to ask me—and it made my decision to stay silent easier. She looked through the papers that had been placed on her desk and glanced up at me every so often.

"Well, there is nothing in here about you being a mute," She rolled her eyes lightly. "So, get talking; I have more patients than just you, you know."

Taken aback at her sudden change, I looked up at her.

"Do you think that just because you're the only woman in the maximum security ward you'll get special treatment? Puh-lease. There are some poor angels here that need more help than you ever will," She sighed and looked to her left.

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, I'm just a little—well, hello!" She turned her head back to me and grinned. "So you can speak?"

I nodded and she continued, "So, you first show up on our records at the age of thirteen—what was your life like before Gotham?"

I shook my head, angry with myself for not keeping quiet, and angry with the Doctor for being so strange herself. She kept staring at me, waiting for me to say something; at least, that's what she should have been doing. Instead, it almost looked as if she were daydreaming. Before I could dive deeper into my thoughts, a knock sounded on her door and the guards came in to get me.

"Dr. Quinzel, your eleven o'clock will be a bit late," The burly man pulled me up and out of my seat. "He had an incident this morning."

"Is he alright?" She stood up suddenly, in an odd manner. Composing herself, she reshuffled my files.

"Yeah, I think so…but his keeper sure ain't," The man frowned and opened the door. "Have a nice day."

I didn't hear the Doctor's response as the man pulled me down the cold hall. I shivered under my supplied outfit and let out a cough. The guard didn't even notice as I barely continued to walk straight; of course, he practically carried me to the next door.

"This is your stop," He grunted and threw me into my cell. I stumbled and regained my balance. When the pain reached my head, my eyes shuttered closed.

"Hey."

I opened my eyes slightly and found myself face down on the cold floor.

"Hey…you okay?"

The voice carried from somewhere—I pulled my face off the ground and looked through the glass. The guards weren't pacing the halls, they weren't even seen at the ends; I rolled over and sat up on my elbows.

"The pills that they give you do that on the first few times."

I blinked and the fog faded slightly as I looked into the cell across from mine. The man stood, staring at me, and I suddenly realized just how close everything was to me. I put a hand to my head and tried to get a closer look at him. I bit back a gasp—I'd heard stories of what had happened to the district attorney's face, but none prepared me for this. I'd seen worse, yes, but they'd been dead. This man, this man is alive and talking…to me.

"The guards tend to leave us be around this time, I figure it's a break in everyone's schedules," The right side of his face barely moved, but his eye rolled around faster than the shielded one. "You're Nytero, right?"

The knowledge that I could pass out at any moment kept me from nodding. I blinked and he continued.

"Welcome to Hell," He smiled a deranged, half smile. "So…you blew up a street corner?"

"You seem to know everything, why ask?"

His good eye rolled, "Obviously the guards' gossip can't be trusted—I didn't think it would take an attorney to realize this."

I squinted into a glare and lifted myself up. Once the fog rolled through my mind and I was able to remove my hand from the glass, I looked across to Dent.

"I blew up a street corner, I'm stuck in this hell hole, and my partner is at Blackgate where I'm sure she's having a wonderful time," I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Why aren't you dead?"

He looked surprised. "They're saying I'm dead? Well, that's a shame."

I glared and hissed, "Don't try to look like you didn't know."

He held up his hands in mock defence. The burnt half of his face twitched in annoyance and his voice carried across the hall. "You win—news travels faster in here than through my old office. In all _fairness_, you may talk to the clown about that."

I chose to not shudder at that. "When will I be able to talk to anyone about anything?"

He shrugged. "Those of us in here always seem to find a way. We're talking, aren't we? The guards here are idiots, they leave far too many chances for little things to happen. Little things that bring about the end of—"

"Quit talking, you lousy freak!"

"Ah, they've returned," He smirked back into his cell. "Another time, Ms. Nytero."

Three guards stormed through the hall and began pacing again. With nothing else to do, I laid down on my bed and let the headache from the medicine lull me into sleep.

* * *

"_Trust me, my dear," he smiled. "Just one drop."_

_I bit my lip and picked up the test tube. The old goggles itched my face and I forced myself to ignore it as I carefully began to tilt the liquid on its side. Barely a drop slipped out and into the steaming beaker below—nothing happened. _

_He let out a laugh, "Brilliant! Now, just put this in that container and we can wreck havoc later."_

_I smirked and carefully poured the still steaming liquid into the silver cylinder; although this was not the first thing I'd brewed for him, it was going to be the first he let me test. I put down my tools and slid off my gloves. The goggles came next and I slipped out of the room behind Janitor to watch the news. He sat excitedly on the couch to see what was occurring throughout the city and how my task would be planned. I wrapped my hair into a bun and sat beside him. _

"_Adena, dear, fetch me the box that came yesterday." _

_I stood up and went to the door to get the box that had arrived on the fourth day of my visit. It wasn't too heavy and I carried it to the older man with ease. He brought a knife out from behind the pillow and I couldn't help but grin at his paranoia. As he sliced open the side and pulled out something I felt my eyebrows scrunch in confusion. _

"_Are those…" I trailed off as he pulled out something else. _

"_Pants, yes." He nodded sharply and held them up for me to see. The black cargo pants were thick, yet thin: definitely not for him. "And here."_

_He handed me the pants and the other item. I held up a jacket made of the same material and colour. _

"_Put something on underneath it, and they'll keep you safe."_

_I nodded slowly and realized why they were so thick—fireproof._

* * *

**_A/N: And, here's chapter two. Do enjoy-but, please, leave a review to tell me what you think of it so far!_**

**_Thanks for reading. _**


	3. Riot

**Burning on the Inside**

_**Riot**_

_The combustion of burning, in which substances combine chemically with oxygen from the air is the most beautiful process known to mankind. The bright light released, paired with the warming heat brings a certain happiness to the hearts of those that interact with the creature—fire._

* * *

Staring at the ceiling had become daily life. Though the daily three were served, only two were eaten, and the conversations with Dent were usually one sided. Well, technically they were _two-_sided, me being the third wheel.

There is no pattern on the ceiling, so my daily routine has been to create a new one each day—todays has the curves of flames etched along the sides: the middle has yet to have been created.

"Nytero," the guard grunted out as the door opened. "It's time."

The daily sessions with Dr. Quinzel are entertaining, at least. Her attitude has grown more excited and cheery by the day, almost building a slightly insane side. We painted yesterday, and hers was a lovely mix of greens and purples; nevertheless, it didn't compare to my orange, yellow, and red masterpiece.

Today, as I was shoved into her office, she sat on top of her desk with a large smile on her face. _Strange how this is more frightening than any of the guards here; _I stared, unmoving, at her from my position by the door.

"Oh, do have a seat, Adena dear," She tilted her head to the side and smiled wider. "Tell me how your sleeping has been."

I moved to the chair on the left and sat myself in it. I opened my mouth to mention the uncomfortable nature of the metal spring set they consider a bed, but didn't get a word out before she cut me off.

"I had an absolutely lovely dream last night," She rocked from side to side on the old, creaking desk. The interior design of the building did nothing to dampen her mood, however. "I was just sitting there, under a large oak—you know, those things that really make you want to _cry—_and I was on this rock that reminded me of a triple layer cake. Everything came together then, and I just knew what I had to do. You know you're the only girl in the max security right now? I'm not supposed to tell you that, 'cause it'll scare you or something like that…but you're a big girl, aren't you? You can handle it."

I blinked and let out a collected breath. As I shuffled my feet around on the hard, cold floor, dust came up; I felt the grains of dirt and dust coat the underside of the white-issued shoes, barely thick enough to be considered shoes. I looked back up at the doctor, and as she took no interest in whether or not I was paying attention, I dropped my eyes to the curves and lines my toes drew in the dust.

"I feel bad for you, Hun," She continued, crossing her legs under her, still on top of her desk. "Isn't it _lonely _in there for you? The new doctor they just hired is working on establishing a program where they let you out for a bit—but only if you behave well. I hope it all goes well. You deserve it—you're a firecracker, Nytero, and firecrackers shouldn't be cooped up."

My head shot up at the word fire and her lips curved in a smaller smile.

"Fire? Yeah, I like it too," She nodded along with what she said. "I like other things too though. A woman needs variety in her life—but, cracky, you'll get your fire. I can promise you that."

A knock sounded at the door before I could question any of what she'd said. A gruff voice sounded the time and the doctor released me with a wink. I stared at her as they dragged me away: it doesn't seem right, keeping me locked up when there are people like her running around free.

The usual push and shove into my room didn't occur with this guard, and when I stood fully conscious in the centre by the window, I took a good look around. Dent's cage empty, there was an empty one to the right and a wall to the left. No proof that I'm the only female on this level—but the wacko blonde seemed trustworthy with that statement.

"Adena Nytero."

I looked to my right at the sound of the voice. The dark ambiance of the hallway sent a chill up my spine, but I slowly moved closer to the sound.

I put a hand against the cool right wall of the room, "Hello?"

"Finally. You'd think I was trying to get in touch with the other side," An airy, but dark voice floated through the glass. I leaned my ear against a small hole designed in the glass for oxygen purposes; unfortunately the voice remained silent.

"Who are you?"

A harsh laugh was my answer.

I backed away from the glass and leaned against the cool wall; the voice crept through once more before the guards returned Dent to his cell.

"Be prepared, it will begin tonight."

* * *

"_You're a tad bit insane, you know that—right?"_

_I glanced up at him from my slowly burning beaker; the laugh that had slipped out slowly died. Hair tied back, the coat he gave me reached the floor as I reached over the fire to pour a solution over it. One drop dripped and the fire seemed to bend and disappear: I bit my lip and picked up the container before setting it inside a metal container. I took a breath and sealed the top; the only smoke left floated above my mentor's head from his cigar. _

"_I'm done," I pulled my goggles off my face and snapped them on the top of my head. Without mentioning his comment on my sanity, I grabbed two of the spherical containers and slipped them into the pockets of my jacket. "Will you be…alright?"_

"_Of course, hunny," He motioned to his box of newly received cigars. "Got all I need right here." _

_Nodding, I picked up my duffle bag and moved it to the door. As I moved back through the hidden doorway I smiled; though I'd only known him what felt like a few days, I was finally ready to go out on my own. I went up to him and stuck out my hand. _

"_Thanks."_

"_No problem, sweetheart."_

_When I walked across the street with my supplies, I glanced back to the apartment building only once._

* * *

I smelled the scent before the screaming and heat registered. Looking up from the soft bed, I saw the flames blazing through the hall. As I walked slowly to the beautiful glowing waves, the supplied jumpsuit caught on the broken shards of the wall—clearly not indestructible. I continued walking, slowing only slightly at the tug of my pant leg; I ripped it free, leaving behind the cotton that had covered my calf.

"Nytero? What the hell are you doing?"

I was grabbed and pulled away from the flames. I let myself be dragged through the hole in the wall: the flames would follow. Blinking through the heavy smoke, I looked into the face of my captor; well, half a face that is.

"What are _you _doing?" I sneered up at him. "Where are we going?"

I lifted my arms to cover my face as he used my body to force himself through a broken door. Everything broken, covered in burns, or still burning, he pushed me through another cloud of smoke and into a room. I dropped onto my knees as he let go of me and coughed. Like nails ripping up my throat, the smoke took its effect; though I'd worked with it my entire life, I'd never fully gotten used to it.

I looked up at the sound of Dent's voice. He was talking at another man, practically yelling.

"If you don't stop your mindless shouting, we will be found," The always-calm voice of Crane ceased all other noise. "What are you doing here, Dent?"

"You left her, knowing perfectly well that she'd let herself burn!"

"The woman didn't supply me with enough to do everything—she's long gone, but I'll have to explain to her why her boyfriend is still locked up."

His voice had deepened considerably and the anger seeped out of his every word. I stood up quickly, pushed him aside, and spoke calmly. "You have no sense—I cannot burn."

He rolled his eyes and pulled something out of his pocket. "Would you like to leave that to chance?"

"Are your minds playing tricks? We need to leave. Now."

I went to comment on the complete sense that our argument made, but a loud crash cut me off.

Crane hissed, "The Bat."

I felt my heart rate speed up as I looked around for anything that could be used to help; _we need to get out of here_. Dent tossed something into the air and let it fall on the back of his hand; as he looked at it, he shrugged and raised his eyebrow.

"See you both later," He waved a hand as he walked out the burning hole in the wall. He put a hand underneath a flame ad turned back to look at us. "They keep the vans on the first level now."

As his steps faded I rounded on Crane. "What the hell was that?"

"His fixation," He roughly grabbed my arm and dragged my through the doors. I felt a bruise forming as his grip grew tighter—the hallway came to an end. Only a keypad separated us from the staircase that would lead to the level the transportation resided on. "Hopefully they have not changed the key since I quit working here."

I raised an eyebrow at that comment: nothing about a nut working as a psychologist appeared in the papers. He's probably too far lost to think of himself as anything but what he wishes he were.

I glanced behind me at the steps we would need to retrace; the hardest part of breaking out of an Asylum would be to convince my partner that he is a patient and not—

The doors slid open and he started racing down them. I blinked and didn't have time to question what just happened; when I caught up to him, he'd reached a parked van and started to remove the covering underneath the steering wheel. I glanced around the area and spotted a toolbox lying beside a hoodless van. When I ran over and grabbed what I needed, I heard another explosion in the distance followed by gunfire.

"Move," I pushed Crane to the side and got in the driver's seat. He hadn't even been able to remove the plastic panels.

"What are you—" I placed the tip of the screwdriver at the ignition and pushed it in. The moment I turned it, a group of officers ran through the door we'd come out of and opened fire.

Crane slid open the back door and got in while I put the van into reverse and drove down the ramp. Once on the ground level, the dark skies were visible ahead—of course, a raising wall was slowly blocking them. I stomped hard on the gas and closed my eyes.

A smash followed and I jolted toward the windshield, loosing control of the van. I felt an arm push itself around me and pull the wheel to the left, guiding us through the obscure streets of the Narrows.

* * *

A young woman pushed her way into her apartment, mumbling senseless things as she threw her keys into a bowl. At one point, the chic one-bedroom had been spotless and organized—late nights spent in files of Gotham's most-wanted had changed that. The kitchen table was covered in newspaper clippings of robbers in masks and suit-wearing killers; the coat rack, completely ignored, swam in a sea of jackets, and ripped pieces of paper littered the hall floor.

"The little bastard thinks he can get away with it, without fixing it," She flung her jacket to join the pile at the foot of the rack and began unbuttoning her blouse. "He managed to get the girl out, but not my puddin'…which did I say was the important one? Why can't anyone just listen?"

She spoke the last words to a purple, stuffed bear. As she set the bear on her couch, she realized that continuing her rant is pointless—the only ones that listen to her are the weird girl and her puddin'—

She froze on the last button. No, not the weird girl's puddin', _her _puddin'.

Harley Quinn's puddin'.

* * *

_**A/N: Unfortunately, this came to me instead of chapter seven of **_**It's Not Confidential**_**-but, I did have fun writing this. **_

_**Tell me what you think in a review, I appreciate it. **_


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